


Kings & Vagabonds

by OsirisRising



Category: Eragon (2006), The Inheritance Cycle - Christopher Paolini
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-31
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2018-03-04 14:08:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3070997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OsirisRising/pseuds/OsirisRising
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two thousand years ago, Eragon Shadeslayer slew Galbatorix, freeing Alagaësia from years of tyranny. A young man named Jason has his life changed when a white dragon named Aegon hatches for him. But dark times are coming; when the current king dies, there is a scramble for power as the people of Alagaësia turn on each other in attempt to rule. And if civil war wasn't enough, a new threat from the west approaches... Political intrigue, violence, and sexual scandal ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sometime Or Another

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, this is my first mediocre upload to this site. I hope you all enjoy it, and I look forward to your feedback!

**Chapter 1: Sometime or Another**

 

_**Carvahall** _

 

Jackson swung a tree branch hard against the trunk of an oak, the resulting _clack_ scaring some birds from their nest.

“You see,” he explained.  “I had it perfectly under control. He was twice my size, but I was way faster. I would have finished him with a simple cross-cut, but the problem is–“

“The problem is” Jason interrupted. “You lost, and you are too prideful to admit it.”

Jackson raised his weapon of oak and leaves above his head. “Hey, it could be worse, asshole. At least I don’t attack like you!” He pathetically waved the branch around in a manner that in no way resembled sword fighting.

Jason scoffed. “I do _not_ move like that.”

When Jackson didn't stop his stick-parading, Jason snatched up a branch of his own.

“We’ll see about that!” Jason knocked the wooden weapon from his friend’s hand and tackled him. The two rolled around in the leaves for a while, grunting and kicking. When Jason finally pinned Jackson to the ground, his victim squirmed for a moment, but then suddenly stopped and cocked his head to the side.

"Jason, listen! Do you hear that?"

“Yeah, that’s not happening. But nice try buddy. I’m not falling for that again.” Jason painfully remembered the last time Jackson had distracted him in the midst of wrestling.

“No, but I’m serious this time. Listen!”

Jason ceased his vicious attacks for a moment and tilted his head. Well, there actually was something. It was a deep, rumbling sound, echoing from a distance. It was faint, but definitely noticeable.

"It's probably just a storm rolling in, Jackson."

Jackson shook his head. "I don't think so. C'mon!"

He pushed out from under his friend and ran off towards Carvahall, laughing as he went. Jason rolled his eyes, but smiled and ran after his best friend. He brushed right past a thorny bush, and silently cursed himself for not wearing a shirt with sleeves. As the trees whizzed past him, the strange sound grew stronger and louder. Perhaps it's not a storm. But then, what was it?

Jason and Jackson broke through the tree line, and into the fields in which nested massive city of Carvahall. The familiar sight of the far off lake, as well large mansions and busy streets came into view. Jason found it hard to believe that Carvahall was ever anything but a large, bustling town, although he had heard all of the tales describing it as a tiny village, long, long ago. It was a pleasant autumn day, with a warm breeze flowing through the vivacious valley. The trees had just begun to show their colors, dotting the land with vibrant yellows and burning oranges. The boys' feet crunched on the dead leaves as they sprinted towards the city walls. They ran through the city gates, not stopping, even though an old guard shouted at them to slow down.

The duo winded through the many streets of the city, following the increasing volume of the thrumming sound. They pushed past children, fruit stands, and anything else in their way until they came upon a small crowd gathered in the middle of the central square. The boys pushed and shoved their way to the front of the mob, trying to see what all the commotion was about.

"There! In the skies!" some man with a mustache shouted, pointing upward.

All eyes in the crowd turned toward the south, where three enormous, winged creatures thundered towards the city.

 _Dragons! The Riders are coming!_  Jason was practically bursting with excitement. Jackson reached over and touched his friends arm. He shouted to be heard over the rising buzz of the crowd, "Let's go find my mother and father before the dragons land! They’ll want to know about this!"

Jason nodded, and the duo turned and sprinted away from the square and towards the edge of the city, where the enormous Iron Hold castle stood, looming over the town. As tall and proud as a king, Iron Hold Keep has been the Stronghammer's residence for generations. It stood boastfully on the top of the largest hill for miles, where Roran Stronghammer himself had built the castle. It was a huge structure, 81,000 square meters and 200 meters tall. It was often referred to as the 'Gem of the North,' and was only outsized by the King’s Castle in the capitol. By the time they made it up the large hill, the boys were thoroughly winded. They panted up to the front of the massive keep, wheezing, where Jackson's father and mother, Thomas and Lorie Stronghammer, stood with their three other children and a few servants.

"Where have you been, young man?" Thomas scolded. A frown graced his worn face; his piercing grey eyes bearing down intently at Jackson "I told you to be here at midday."

"Oh," Jackson said, raising his eyebrows. "There was actually an important reason for that?"

Thomas sighed slowly. Jason sometimes wondered what it would be like to have Jackson as a son. It made him shudder coldly.

Thomas continued "Hurry up and make yourselves decent before the Riders arrive. I'll not have you looking like sweaty peasants for our honored guests."

The boys jogged inside the castle, speeding past servants to Jackson's bedroom, quickly stripping of their sweaty tunics and trousers and putting on more appealing garments. Jason observed where that thorn bush had scraped him earlier. Eh, nothing too deadly.

"Dragon Riders!” Jason panted. “Real Dragon Riders, _*huff*_ , coming to Carvahall!" he breathed as he ran fingers through his sandy hair, attempting to neaten it. Jason was a tall, young man, seventeen years of age.  Due to years of training with the sword, he was very fit for his age, having well-defined muscles on his arms and chest. He had light brown hair and almond eyes, which he supposedly got from his mother; who had passed away when Jason was small.

Jackson was only a bit taller than Jason, and just as fit (although he claimed to have the better body). He face was framed with unruly blonde hair (not the typical brown of the Stronghammer family) and blue eyes that he inherited from his mother. He was often told he was the spitting image of his grandfather.

"Well I'm just glad we have someone other than boring old lords and evil ladies visiting." Jackson murmured, while throwing a blue tunic over his bare chest, which he kept smooth for the girls.

“Does your father know that Riders are coming?” Jackson inquired.

“I don’t know,” Jason sighed. His father had been gone for a month now, doing business in Ilirea. “He’ll be in the capitol for a while longer…”

“Don’t worry about it” Jackson smiled at his friend, clicking on a red belt. “He’ll find out sooner or later.”

Jackson and Jason had been best friends literally since birth. Having been born 9 hours within each other, they had grown up doing everything together. Jason's father was Andrew Winister, the North's ambassador, and Jackson was the eldest of the Stronghammer children, the family that had been Lords of Palancar for nearly 2000 years.

After they deemed themselves decent, they made their way outside to join the rest of the Stronghammer family. Jackson's youngest siblings were twins, Bradley and Sarah, both eight years old with little brown heads. The Stronghammer's middle child was a young beauty named Sybil, fifteen years of age, with long auburn hair and fair skin, just like her mother. Jackson, being seventeen and the eldest, took his place between his mother and Sybil.

By now the dragons were about to land at the castle, the thundering of their wings was deafening; and the buffeting wind caused by their flapping made everyone's hair and clothes blow in different directions. The three dragons landed with a rumbling  _thump._ One of the riders was an elf, on was a man, and one was a woman. As the Riders dismounted, all of the Stronghammer residence bowed deeply in respect for the ancient order.

Thomas spoke up, "Welcome, my lords, to Carvahall. I am Lord Thomas Stronghammer, Warden of Palancar Valley. I trust your flight went well?"

The tall, strange-looking elf with long, brown hair, clearly the highest-ranking of the three Riders, spoke. "Thank you, Lord Stronghammer. Indeed, we had a pleasant flight. We have come-"

Jason stopped listening to the pleasantries and turned his attention to the dragons. The largest of the three was a burning orange color, with emerald green eyes, and the smaller two were ocean blue and a deep red color. The orange dragon looked back at him with a sparkling, intelligent eye, which Jason stared into for a while before turning away, unable to maintain eye-contact with the dragon. He then took notice of the Riders themselves. The elf who was speaking, who was bound to the orange dragon, seemed to be the eldest of the group, and Jason had no doubt he was the most powerful. The man with the sea blue dragon was a scary-looking man with a scar covering the left side of his face. It looked like it was from...an axe? Yikes. Jason shuddered. Lastly he observed the woman. She was a pretty woman, with dark hair and brown eyes that looked very kind and motherly. All of the Riders looked very fit for battle with their masterfully crafted armor and weapons; and Jason decided he'd rather not tangle with this lot.

The voice of Thomas Stronghammer filled his ears again "-we hope you will find Iron Hold Castle most comfortable. Whitmore!” he snapped and a short, bald little man snapped to attention. “Would you please show the Riders and their dragons to the dragon loft?"

The servant bowed and led the Riders away. The Stronghammers followed suit, save for Jackson. The teen turned to Jason with an excited look on his face. After a quick glance at the sun, he grunted.

"You'd better run home and get ready for the ceremony tomorrow."

Jason blinked at him a confused look. "What ceremony?"

Jackson gave him a look that said 'are-you-fucking-kidding me?'

"Were you even listening to a thing the Rider said? They're having a ceremony tomorrow to find a new Rider! Really, Jason, you should pay more attention to these things," he smirked.

Jason gave a surprised look.

"Oh, yeah…I was totally listening!"

Jackson narrowed his eyes.

"Shut up." said Jason "It's not like you listen to everything you're told." Jackson couldn't argue.

 _Wow...a new Rider could be here in Carvahall!_ He thought, astonished. He bid his friend farewell and made his way back to town.

* * *

 

**_Alalëa: Across the Western Sea_ **

Kateryn stared at the ceiling, admiring the cracks in the plain, white surface. Really, anything could be found interesting in this situation.

“Kateryn?” her instructor called. “Did you hear me?”

Kateryn slipped out of her daydreaming. "...Is it the Anora River?"

"No." her instructor said flatly, curling her hair with her index finger.

Kateryn let put an exasperated groan, putting her head on the table. She had been at this for hours now, and she was quite fed up. Noticing her frustration, her instructor set down the map she was holding and said, "Alright. That's enough for one lesson. Go on and get some rest."

Kateryn bowed her head, got up from her chair and exited the room with haste. She hated her lessons, and would much rather be walking outside in the palace gardens. She briskly walked through the white halls of the castle where she lived. She had spent her entire life in these walls, and she knew every room and corridor. She had years of memories hidden around the palace.

She smiled softly, remembering the all pleasant times she had often hid from her brother in some obscure room. Her smile faded as she remembered hiding from her brother in not-so-pleasant situations. She took a shortcut down some stairs and out an unused door that led to the gardens.

 _Why do I have to study a place that I have never seen?_ She thought to herself. She didn't want to go to Alagaësia, she never had. Why would she want to go somewhere else when she was completely happy right she was? She sighed, taking a seat on a marble bench, observing the beautiful gardens of Tarith. Tarith was the grandest city in all of Alalëa, known for its riches in gold, silk, and spices. In the greatest city on earth, all she had ever needed had been given to her.

Unfortunately, many have told Kateryn it had to be  _her_  that regained the Empire (Or Broddring Kingdom…whatever they called it these days). She was the last true Galbatorian since the family had fled to Tarith to escape the rebels, Eragon and the Varden. Kateryn shook her head. _Galbatorian_. That wasn't even their real last name. Not that she actually knew what her last name was. She knew that Galbatorix originated from Inzilbêth, but that was the extent of her knowledge. Galbatorix hardly even spoke to his children, leaving them only with the promise of one day regaining Alagaësia.

 _Family…bah!_ Kateryn despised the word. The only family she had known was her brother, and he had become a twisted, mad sociopath. Kateryn was almost glad he was dead, because she didn't have to marry him. Yes,  _marry._  For two thousand years, her family wed brother and sister to keep the blood "pure." Plotting…growing stronger…waiting for an opportunity for a true Galbatorian to sit on the throne once again. Now that her brother was dead, she was the last true Galbatorian, so the duty lies on Kateryn’s shoulders, to take back Alagaësia by storm, sometime or another. Her whole life, Kateryn had been handed anything she had ever desired, but this… she had no say in this.

She shook her head again. She was _not_ that person.

She sat and daydreamed in the garden for a while, until the sky began to darken. She arose from the bench and made her way back inside the white castle. When she arrived in her chambers, a bath was already drawn and hot. She shed her light dress and let it fall on the floor. Before she entered the bath, she observed herself in a full mirror on the wall. She had the same pitch black eyes of Galbatorix himself. She also had jet-black hair that made it just past her breasts. Her skin was light and without flaw; beyond compare to any other woman in Tarith. It wasn’t natural, of course. It was known that every single Galbatorian had to be perfect.

 And for Kateryn, the meant being magically altered her entire childhood. Everything from her complexion to her breasts; every curve of her body was unblemished. She was often told she was beautiful by men and women alike, who always made her laugh, because she thought of herself as an inbred freak.

Kateryn turned from the mirror and stepped into the steaming bath. She forced herself to relax and closed her eyes, trying not to think about anything. But of course, her mind wandered from dragons to fireflies to sword fighting.

* * *

 

_**Carvahall** _

Jason stared at the ceiling in his bedroom, trying to get some sleep after the excitement of the day. He figures not even some “Jason time” could cure him of his restlessness. He replays the events over and over, everything from wrestling with Jackson to feeling the wind from the dragon’s wings. But, despite everything, his mind always wandered back to one thing; the orange dragon. The way the giant looked at Jason, as if he knew something about him that Jason didn't know about himself. He shivered, and pulled his furs over him. After another hour of tossing and turning, he slowly fell into the abyss of his dreams; the glittering green eye burning in the back of his mind.

The next day, all of the Carvahall children, ages seven through eighteen, were lined up in the town’s largest square, youngest to oldest. The Stronghammer children went last, as not to show favoritism to a noble family. Not that anyone would mind if they went first. The Stronghammers were just rulers, beloved by all of Palancar. Every child was dressed their best for the occasion, their mothers fussing over every little detail of their clothing. Carvahall had done its best to flaunt its extensive riches for the ceremony; and being the richest city in the North allows one to make quite a ceremony. After all, how often did you have the chance to become a Rider? A long table was set in the center of the square, displaying three dragon eggs; one a sharp green with white, webby veins flowing across it, another was a deep red, with orange veins circling in swirls. The last egg was the smallest, a pale white egg, with grey veins in a disarrayed form, reaching all over it like thin fingers. Jason stared at them all in wonder. They were beautiful, yes, also fierce-looking. Just like the beasts that slept inside of them. The three riders that had come were standing behind the table, looking awfully better than yesterday now that they were rested and freshened up. Their dragons loomed overhead, circling the city, looking down on it’s inhabitants.

Jason leaned over to Jackson, "How were the Riders? Did you get to see their dragons up close?"

The blonde nodded. "They let me; Bradley, Sarah and Sybil meet them. You know, I actually never realized how big Iron Hold castle really is."

Jason raised an eyebrow, "What do you mean? You live there, smartass."

His best friend rolled his eyes at that. "Well,  _yeah_ , but I mean there are entire rooms made _specifically_ for dragons. The one we opened was enormous! I've never been in it before. Gods, it's massive! I bet Eragon Shadeslayer could fit ten copies of his own dragon in there."

Jason shrugged. He wasn't so sure about that, he had heard plenty crazy stories about the Sapphire Dragon's size.

Jackson spoke again, "Also I overheard a conversation between my parents and the Riders. It seemed pretty serious. Something about the King-"

He was cut off by the voice of the lead Rider, the elf.

"People of Carvahall! You are gathered here today to bear witness to the Ceremony of the Dragon Eggs! This is a moment of great hon-"

Jason tuned out and looked at the Rider's dragons, in the sky. The orange dragon kept regaining his attention. Jason couldn't get it out of his mind that the dragon was watching him.

He was snapped back to attention as the line began to move. One by one the children passed over the eggs, running their hands over the smooth surfaces, observing the intricate details on the shells. The children were visibly excited. Who would be? Just the thought: _What if it’s me?_ Is enough to excite anyone. It felt like only a second before Jason arrived at the table. He took a deep breath, and went over to the first egg, the green one. He reached out a hand to it, then hesitated. Breathing again, he reached out and touched it. It felt very cold, despite having dozens of hands already run over it. He wasn't sure exactly what he was supposed to feel…but he knew was that he wasn't feeling it. He moved on to the red egg, staring into the seemingly endless swirls. Once again,…nothing. He looked up and saw the orange dragon looking at him with its green eyes again. He promptly looked away.

Then there was the pale white one.

He got a good look at it up close, all of its tiny little veins webbing the entire shell. It had an almost unnatural look to it, a cold, alien feeling, like it was as ancient as the world itself.

He slowly extended his hand toward it, and touched its surface. He saw his own reflection looking back at him from the egg. Unlike the other eggs this one felt warm, almost hot, but other than that, he felt…

…nothing.

Jason pulled his hand off and was about to turn and leave when there was a quiet  _crack_ sound. Jason froze and turned back towards the egg. It wobbled slightly, as if someone had poked it.

_Crack!_

A thin crack appeared on the surface of the shell, the egg now wobbling furiously, back and forward. The noises got louder and the cracks bigger, until out of the shell, burst a white baby dragon.


	2. The Great Galbatorix

**_Alalëa, Across the Western Sea_ **

"What about the dragons?" Kateryn inquired, tapping her fingers along the table.

Her instructor, Dienzel, raised her thin, blond eyebrows. "What about them?"

"You know, what were they like? How big do they get? Could one speak to a dragon?" Kateryn rambled on and on until Dienzel raised a hand to silence the sudden onslaught of questions.

"What's with the sudden interest?" the instructor asked, amused.

Kateryn shrugged, moving a long piece of black hair out of her face. "I'm just curious."

The young scholar smiled put the book she had down on the desk, spine up, so she wouldn't lose her spot.

"Well, the dragons are a very ancient race, believed to be the only race, along with the dwarves, that are native to Alagaësia. As you probably know, they _can_ breathe fire, and they _do_ get considerably large. How large exactly, I cannot say, for few in Alalëa have ever seen one, and those who have are long dead. Based on the many stories and legends, it is said that an adult dragon could be confused with a great hill, although I think that is most likely exaggerated.

As for speaking with them, it _is_ possible to speak with the dragons, but only those who are bonded to Riders or those who have chosen to learn the common tongue."

"What about the Riders?"

Dienzel turned her brown eyes on Kateryn. "You know nothing on these subjects?"

Kateryn shook her head, sheepishly. “No. Alastair was the one who learned all of this, before…you know." She hated the mention of her brother. “After all of that, I was thrust into the position of super-madman-conqueror.”

Dienzel nodded. "I'm glad you asked, because you're going to need this all knowledge when you sail back to the Broddring Kingdom."

Kateryn rolled her eyes.

Dienzel ignored the rude gesture and continued, "The Riders were formed after a long, very bloody war between the Elves and the Dragons. A pact was formed between the two races to end the yeas of turmoil, and thus the Riders were born. The purpose of said Riders was to keep the peace and protect the innocent. Humans were eventually added to the agreement later on. But after many centuries, the Riders became corrupt, and sought after their own purposes. The Great Galbatorix, your ancestor, saw their evil, and tried to right their wrongs. But the Riders were stubborn, and would not listen, and sought to destroy Galbatorix for defying them. But Galbatorix and the thirteen Forsworn members; a trusted group of Riders who joined Galbatorix, successfully overthrew the Riders. However, a rebel movement, known as the Varden hated Galbatorix for denying the corrupt to have power, and one by one killed off the Forsworn. Galbatorix successfully defeated them, and the Varden fled to the Beor Mountains.

Galbatorix became ruler of the newly established Empire, and for a hundred years there was peace."

"That was until an egg was stolen, right?" Kateryn interrupted.

Dienzel smiled. "Correct! An egg was stolen from Galbatorix, and the Rider she hatched for eventually caused the downfall of the Great Galbatorix. But not before you family fled here, to Tarith. Ever since then, Alagaësia has been under chaotic tyranny comprised of Eragon and Nasuada's descendants."

"What about the elves? What role do they play in all of this?"

Dienzel looked out the castle window. "It’s late. That's enough for today. Go on and enjoy yourself the rest of the day."

“Aw,” Kateryn complained.

Kateryn scooted out of her chair and exited the study. For once she was actually kind of interested in hearing about the savaged land of Alagaësia A land to which she was tasked to bring the flames of war once again.

* * *

 

**_Carvahall, Palancar Valley_ **

Jason stared with almond eyes at the writhing pale dragon. It was peering around, observing its new surroundings. Its scampering eyes locked on Jason’s. Jason thinks it might just be the most beautiful thing he ever saw. Even more beautiful than Gwen from the tavern. And Gwen is _very_ attractive.

The dragon’s eyes were an incredible, deep red, even rivaling the color of the Isidar Mithrim in Tronjheim. Its hide was pure white, each scale reflecting the light differently, causing almost a rainbow aura to glow around it. The dragon opened its maw and called out. Jason swore on his mother’s grave that the dragon was speaking to him. Slowly…slowly… he raised a hand, and inched closer to the serpent. He hesitated about an inch away. What would it do if he touched it? The dragon cocked its head and moved forward, closing the gap between the two. The moment Jason’s skin touched the dragons, a burst of light flashed between them. Jason instinctively pulled his hand away and clenched it close to his body. A mixture of hot and cold, pain and relief coursed through his entire body. Lights flashed across his vision, dancing in an alien ritual.

When Jason opened the eyes he hadn't realized he closed, he saw all the people of Carvahall staring at him. He wanted to go up to every one of them and slap shut their mouths that here hanging open. One by one, they all bowed down, showing the deepest respect possible for a new Rider. Jason gaped as even the Stronghammer family bent the knee to him. Jason looked down at his hand, where there was a silver patch on his palm, the mark of a true Rider.

A long, almost awkward silence ensued.

Jason nearly jumped out of his skin when a Rider, the elf, came behind him and touched him on the shoulder.

“Why don’t you come with me?” He spoke, softly. We have much to talk about.”

* * *

 

**_Vroengard: Home of the Dragon Riders._ **

Eragon looked down at the tiny, purple dragon, hopping by his feet.

"No,” he said sternly. “I already fed you this morning."

Clearly, the young dragon was not amused, and displayed his discontentment by biting Eragon's toes.

"Ow! Okay, okay!" Eragon tossed a piece of meat from his plate to the dragon, which happily gorged himself on the morsel. Eragon shook his head and smiled. He hadn’t personally dealt with a baby dragon in-…in who knows how long? He had found the little dragon's egg deep in the forests of Vroengard. It must have been lost, or perhaps the wild dragon's parents had died. The egg was particularly small, and the dragon would have died without its mother, so Eragon took it back with him to Dragon's Keep. There, it had hatched, and caused all sorts of never-ending mischief for Eragon. However, he had taken a liking to little dragon, and apparently the feeling was mutual, seeing as though it followed him around, whether Eragon liked or not.

Eragon got up from his table, and started walking back to his study. The dragon jumped up on his shoulder, smacking him in the face with its wing.

Eragon cursed, "Don't you think you're getting too big for that?"

The dragon obviously disagreed, because it only blinked at him. Sighing, Eragon went over to his desk to finish some work that he had yet to do. As he sat down, the dragon walked down his arm (stabbing the Rider with his tiny claws in the process) and perched happily on the desk. Eragon stroked the scales on the dragon's head, getting a small purr from the creature. He also noticed the dragon's talons were getting a bit long; he would have to trim them before he got decapitated.

After a few minutes of doing tedious writing, he suddenly stopped, breaking the stencil he was writing with. Without turning around, he sat up. There was a presence in the room. This was strange, because there was no sound of footsteps indicating that someone had entered. Now, who could sneak up on him like that? Certainly not any of his students. Arya could...but Eragon knew it wasn't her. Without looking up from his work he blatantly said aloud, "What are you doing here Angela?"

He turned around to see familiar red hair framing a dimpled face.

"Is that how you greet an old friend?" she glared at him. "I do hope the years haven't turned you sour."

For a long while they stared each other down, with scowls on their faces.

Eragon cracked first, and he busted out laughing. Angela's laughter soon followed, ringing out in the pleasant way it always did. Eragon stood up to embrace the herbalist.

"It's good to see you again, Angela.” Stepping back, he squinted at her. “You don't look a day older than when I left."

Angela flipped her hair with mock vanity. "Well you know, I stay out of the sun, and all. I also stay away from toads; nasty little things. You, however, look like a wrinkled old apple."

Eragon chuckled; "I do not!" he looked no more than ten years older since he had left home.

As much as Eragon was already perplexed about Angela, her presence here only confused him more.

The dragon, upset at being ignored, began to shuffle around the desk and make noise, knocking all sorts of things onto the floor.

"Who's this?" asked Angela, reaching out and petting the small dragon.

"I found his egg in the forest last week. He wouldn't have survived, so I took him in. And he is  _quite_  a troublemaker."

"What's his name?"

Eragon shrugged. "I haven't given him one."

Angela thought for a minute, and said, "I do think that Figaro is a good name for him. Yes, I'll call him Figaro. "

Angela sat on Eragon's desk, knocking everything that remained on to the floor. "I was surprised to hear that when you left, you made Vroengard the new home of the Riders. I thought you were going to establish it it somewhere else?"

"That was the plan originally," Eragon explained, "But I found I was able to dissipate the hostile magics surrounding the island." He left out the part that involved the name of the ancient language.

" _You_ haven't answered _my_ question. Why have you come here Angela?"

The herbalist shrugged. "Things have started to get quite dull a century or two ago. It was harder and harder to find something exiting, now that old Galby is dead.”

Eragon groaned. “Galby?”

“Yes. Don’t interrupt. Once I felt I had found everything there is to do, I decided to take you on up your offer. You remember, when you offered to have me come by, right? I do believe that having baby dragons around will be interesting."

“Where is Solembum?”

Angela shrugged. “I don’t know. Somewhere around here.”

Figaro was digging around in Angela's bag, and when caught a whiff of some strange herb. He pulled away and sneezed, sending a burst of flame toward Eragon, blackening his face and singing his hair.

Angela broke into a full laughter and said, "Yes, I think this will be  _very_  interesting indeed!"

* * *

 

**_Carvahall, Palancar Valley_ **

"You will be flown to join your fellow Riders in two days' time."

Jason stopped stroking his white dragon and, panicky, turned to the female Rider, the human with dark hair named Lana.

"Two days! So soon?" he asked. His father wouldn't even be back home from the Ilirea for another five days. He wouldn't even get a chance to say goodbye!

She nodded. "Immediate training is required; all Riders must do the same.”

There was a beat of silence.

“I'm sorry." Lana spoke gently. She sounded sincere.

Jason didn’t respond. From his seat on the floor, Jason looked up to the dizzying high ceiling. Jackson was right; Iron Hold castle was surprisingly huge, even to those who live in it. Jason turned back to the dragon at his feet. He had only left Carvahall once, and that was when he was very small. His father had to go to Narda for some business Jason would never understand. All he remembered was the ocean, vast and blue, the most beautiful thing he had ever laid eyes on...until his dragon hatched for him.

“How old were you when you left?” he asked.

Lana thought for a moment. “I was around seventeen; your age. My situation, however, was very different from yours.”

She shuffled over to Jason’s spot on the floor and slid down to join him.

“You see,” she continued, “I was from the capital. I had lived there my entire life. And when you live in a place like I did, there was no getting out. Not by anything short of a miracle. My parents worked tirelessly every day to make life better for me and my three sisters, but even then we struggled to get by. When my dragon hatched for me…it was like ticket out of the slums. My parents couldn’t be prouder. They wanted me out of that place as soon as possible. I was pretty ecstatic myself.”

The Rider peered at Jason with big, green eyes. “You are different, Jason. You have a lovely home, surrounded by people who love you. I can’t imagine how hard it is to think about leaving. The other Riders that came with me would go on a rant about how it’s your duty, and how you’ve been chosen to fulfill this destiny, yada yada. _I_ will just say this. You will never be able to forget the people you love. Your friends, your family, your home. All you can do is hold them close to your heart, and look forward to the day you will be with them again.”  

Jason smiled. “Thanks.”

Lana just nodded. “It’s my job. You’re a good kid, Jason. You’ll do just fine on Vroengard.”

"So, how will we get to Vro…vron...vrin-"

"Vroengard." Lana corrected. "And we will be traveling by dragon back."

Lana grinned as she saw the look on Jason's face. "I remember my first dragon flight. It was on green dragon named Visero. It was truly breathtaking, although I will admit I was terrified of heights. But nothing could compare to my first flight with my own dragon. Now that-“she smiled. “That is an experience of a lifetime.” She gestured towards Jason.

“It will be a while before you can ride your own dragon. But trust me, he will grow. Fast."

The squeal of the iron doors to the dragon chambers sounded, echoing around the stone room. Jackson sheepishly entered the room not sure if he was interrupting something. Lana turned to Jason and said, “Remember, it’s not all that bad.” She patted him on the shoulder and took her leave.

Jackson meandered over to Jason.

“Crushing on the dragon lady, are we, Jason Winister?” he smirked.

Jason made a face. “Gross. She’s got to be around thirty years old.”

Jackson just laughed and sat down next to his friend.

"You're leaving, aren't you?" He said after a moment of silence. It sounded more like a statement than a question.

Jason sighed. "Yes."

The blonde shook his head. "Well, you can't! Who will protect me from the twins? Remember the time they put frogs in my bed?  Who’s gonna wander the secret passages of Iron Hold with me? Who's going to flirt with the village girls with me and-and..." Jackson groaned, putting his head in his hands. "This is fucked, Jason."

Jason put a hand on his friends shoulder. "I won't be leaving for two days. Besides, I won't be gone forever. I will visit once in a while. I promise."

Jackson didn't look so convinced, but he nodded anyway. He noticed the dragon in Jason’s lap and nodded at him questionably. "Has he spoken yet?"

Jason shook his head. "Nothing at all, except my name."

The dragon chirped playfully, and chewed at Jackson’s boot.

“Well,” Jackson chimed, impishly. “Since we have such limited time together as friends, what do you say to…the two of us hitting the tavern tonight?”

 

* * *

 

**_Ilirea, the Capital of Broddring Kingdom._ **

Andrew Winister was extremely tired. He had gotten next to no sleep for the past week, being completely engrossed in his work. As he sat at the Council meeting in the grand hall, it took every ounce of willpower just to keep from dozing off. He had to stay awake, now more than ever. The King was ill, and the Council was entrusted with the management of the Kingdom until his recovery. Trivial amounts of petty issues took up the majority of their time, with very few important situations in between.  _Only five more days of this torture_ , he told himself. _Then you can flee back to Carvahall and see your son._

An hour later when the meeting was finally over, Andrew went directly to his chambers and plopped on his bed with a grunt. He was tired of the stress, rumors, and never-ending tasks that suffocated him at the Capital. Sure, Carvahall had its share of nonsense, but Ilirea took it to the extremes, especially in Edoc'sil Castle, the seat of power in Broddring. The castle was bigger than Iron Hold in Carvahall, but not by a wide margin. It took up about the same ground space, but it was undoubtedly taller. The city itself, however, dwarfed Carvahall. Ilirea was vastly different than what he was used to. Where he lived, the entire city was well-to-do, almost gaudy. The Capital, on the other hand, while it had a wealthy portion of town that surrounds the castle, grew poorer and poorer farther away from the center. It annoyed him how seemingly no one with a high-standing position in Ilirea actually cared for the common folk.

_Oh, stop pitying yourself,_  he thought. There was important work to be done here, and as the ambassador for the northern portion of Broddring it was his responsibility. Duty, honor ... _sleep._  Carvahall would have to wait. He thought about all the people in Carvahall who depended on the communication between the north and the capital. As Andrew slipped into sleep, he also thought about his son, the only family he had left, since his wife died. He wondered what Jason was up to. But he didn't worry too much. His son was a good kid, never did anything he wasn't supposed to. Andrew took pride knowing his son would be fine while he was gone. As long as he stayed away from that Jackson.

* * *

 

**_Carvahall, Palancar Valley_ **

Jason and Jackson were in a backroom of the local tavern, sitting in chairs across from each other, stark naked as two village girls worked wonders between their legs.

_Jackson was right,_ thought Jason as he took a drink from his mug.  _There is no better way to celebrate leaving for Vroengard._

They had spent hours drinking and screwing the night away; something they would've gotten in huge trouble for had their parents found out.

"S'how did I tell you how fun this night's'been, eh?" called a clearly drunk, incoherent Jackson.

"You were righ-  _fuck!_ ' Jason groaned as the girl he was with made particularly good use of her tongue.

Jackson only laughed and took another swig from his beer. "Let's face it- the world'sa shitty place without women!"

Jason could only nod in agreement.

"Shit I think I'm close..." Jason moaned.

"Yeah, same here." Jackson agreed.

The boys finished about the same time, only to be ready for round two. Or pass out, which ever came first.

Jason woke up with a pounding headache the next day in his bed. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he slowly sat up and tried to recall the previous night's events. He remembered an endless flow of beer and…

He smiled contently and a certain part of him stirred as he remembered the favor he had gotten from the girls down in the village. What were their names again?

_I didn't even get their names,_  he thought. He sat up and stretched, and laughed as he found a passed out, snoring Jackson in his bed. He had his arms thrown across Jason and his head tucked into his friends shoulder. Jason threw a pillow at his friend yelling, "Get up you lazy-ass!"

Jackson simply mumbled something about it being too early, even though it was well past midday.

"I'm going out for a walk to clear this headache." He explained, shoving Jackson off of him. "See you later."

He walked over to the door to his bedroom. He threw open the door, and was about to leave when he saw group of three servant girls staring at him with gaping mouths. Jason became even more confused when the girls started giggling.

"Perhaps you should put some clothes on first Jason." Jackson called from the bed.

"Shit." Jason blushed and quickly slammed the door shut. He could still hear the girls giggling from the other side of the door. Jackson was laughing hysterically as Jason scrambled to put some clothes on.

"Did you see their faces?" he managed to wheeze between his laughs. "You obviously impressed the ladies, by their expressions!" He cackled some more. “Man, I thought _I_ was hammered.”

Jason blushed some more. He tugged on his waistband and peered down his trousers. "Women think it's impressive?"

"Oh, shut up."

Jason smirked. "Someone's jealous."

Jackson rolled his eyes. "Yeah. I'm  _totally_ jealous that half of your household staff just saw your naked ass. Okay."

“Come on, don’t you want to cuddle naked with me again?” Jason teased.

“Jason. Those girls probably already think we fucked. Not gonna add to that. They’re probably telling their friends right now. And then _they_ will tell _their_ friends. You’ll have to deal with that.”

Jason opened his door again to find that the girls were still there. He blushed, looked down, and hurried past them as they snickered some more.

“No, you deal with it Jackson!”

Jason didn't close the door, giving the girls full view of Jackson, still in his bed, with nothing but bed sheets covering his bottom half.

Jackson perked up. “I think I will.”

The blonde winked and gestured at the group.

Jason rolled his eyes as he heard more giggling and the door shutting and locking behind the three girls.

* * *

 

**_Vroengard, Home of the Riders_ **

Eragon sat in a clearing in the forest, enjoying the sounds of the wildlife. The fortress's tallest tower stood well above the tree line at one-thousand-five hundred feet, with dragons of all sizes and colors flying around it like moths to a torch. Angela had already begun settling in, and he spent the last hour meditating in the forests. He hadn’t meditated in a while, and it felt good to think about nothing after the never-ending hassle of Rider students. Figaro jumped onto Eragon’s shoulder, chirping happily. The Rider smiled and admired the small beast. He had emerald, sparkling eyes, just like an elf he used to know. Even after two-thousand years, he still missed her. He wondered if she felt the same way.

_Don't think about it too much_  he told himself. Arya was halfway across the world, well out of his reach. He went back to his meditating. He let his mind wander across the forest, scouting the animals, big and small, that inhabited the forest.

Suddenly Eragon saw a flash of red, and an intense pain jolted through his head. With a cry he fell to his knees, and images flashed through his head. Thousands of images flooded into his mind at once, threatening to over whelm him. The piercing scream of dying men filled his ears, the taste of sweat and blood touched his tongue. The smell of smoke singed his nose and he felt the sting of iron and steel, claw and fang. He gasped for air and collapsed to the ground as reality returned to him.

He heard a distant voice, faintly.

_‘Eragon, Eragon!’_ A familiar voice filled his head.

_‘Saphira...’_

_‘Are you alright, little one?’_

_‘I’m alright.’_

As Eragon struggled back to his feet, Figaro worriedly babbled, tugging at the Riders shoes with his teeth.

_I haven't had a vision in centuries,_ he thought.  Out of all the scenes that played before him, he remembered three in vivid detail:

The statue of a king, cracked and crumbling, stood above a mass grave.

The King’s Castle, Edoc’sil, being torn apart by the might of a great beast.

And ships, a fleet of them, bearing the colors of the Old Empire.

Something was coming, something bad. And he wasn't sure what, but he knew it was coming soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Duhn Duhn Duhn


End file.
